“What’s this?” the sheriff asks.
“All handmade,” I tell him. “My grandmother, Oka, is Choctaw.” Bump holds up a few of the baskets. “Woven from Mississippi swamp cane,” I continue. “Tight weaves, all very functional. Not just for decoration. And they’re dyed naturally. All original designs.”
Another shopper takes notice and asks, “How much?” She examines the baskets. Thankfully, Isabel stays asleep against my chest. Sheriff Halpin is all smiles as he negotiates prices for the goods. Bump and I stand in amazement, watching money swap hands. Within thirty minutes, two baskets have already sold.
“Think she can make more?” the sheriff asks.
“Absolutely,” I answer. “She’ll be thrilled!”
Bump paces the aisles, jiggling his keys and toying with the various items on the shelves. It’s obvious his patience is wearing thin. “You’re really not a shopper, are you?” I talk with a teasing voice as Isabel stirs against me.
“What makes you think that?” Bump juggles three onions.
I pause, thinking. “Why don’t you go find something to do at Doc’s Place? Doesn’t he have a new colt for you to break?”
Bump drops the onions into the bin and gives me a relieved smile. “Thank you!” he says, then kisses me on the cheek. “You’ll know where to find me.”
Trying to remember everything Oka asked me to get, I load my basket with the items we need to bring home. Seeds. Jars. Some new fabric, a stash of sharp needles, and some basic staples for the pantry. Without Bump here to rush me, I take my time, enjoying being out of the house and doing something useful. By the time I finish, I’ve blown more than an hour in the store, chatting with townsfolk and working out the payment for Oka’s goods with Sheriff Halpin.
The sheriff helps me load everything into the truck and tucks an envelope of cash for Oka into my purse. “I can’t wait to see her reaction,” I tell him. “She didn’t think anyone would want to buy this stuff.”
“As long as it’s selling, tell her to keep it coming,” Sheriff Halpin says. “I only take ten percent.” Then he pulls my arm and speaks sharply. “You’re being foolish, letting Fortner stay at your place. There’s no line he won’t cross. And when it happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I find Bump and Kat riding horses together in Doc Henley’s pasture. Instead of greeting them, as I should, I stand back behind the fence and watch, letting Isabel nurse beneath the warmth of my coat. Kat giggles and flirts shamelessly. She pulls her horse to a stop and swings her legs. “If I ride longer than ten minutes, I end up with pins and needles in my feet.”
Bump climbs down from a dun gelding and moves near Kat. He proceeds to touch her legs, pushing them gently into the horse’s side. “Now sit back, farther in your saddle.” She does. Then Bump says, “Your stirrups are too long.” He continues to shorten the length, touching her knee as he makes the adjustments. “Shouldn’t go below your ankle or else your heels will be up and you’ll lean forward. You want a long leg, so you can arch at the waist. Try it now.”
Within seconds, Kat’s galloping across Doc’s pasture laughing at the top of her lungs. “And to think, it was that simple all along!”
I know good and well Kat didn’t need Bump to show her where to place her stirrups. What I don’t know is how they both felt when my husband touched her legs and placed his hands over hers. They’re acting as if Kat isn’t the only one without a spouse.
Kat circles around and notices me at the gate. She rides toward me, all out of breath. “Hi, Millie. Wow, Kenneth’s really got a way with horses. In five minutes he’s taught me all I’ve been doing wrong for years.”
“That right?” There is no warmth in my voice. I move Isabel to my left and she continues nursing.
Bump walks our way. “Doc asked me to work a few of the horses. Kat asked for a lesson. Killed two birds with one stone!”
“All done, then?” I phrase it more as a demand than a question, much sharper than my usual tone. Bump looks at Kat as if he’s sorry he has to leave. I stand here with my extra weight, my baby at my breast, fearing the worst.
“What’s wrong, Millie?” Kat asks.
I don’t even know how to respond. I look at Bump. I hope he’ll take my hand and walk out of here with me, right now, before I make any bigger fool of myself.
Instead, he says, “Maybe you’ve pushed yourself too hard today. Why don’t you go inside and rest while I put tack away?”
Breathe, Millie, I tell myself. This isn’t like you. Your hormones are surging. Calm down.
Kat jumps from her saddle and resets her Stetson, tucking her red hair underneath. “Come on, Millie. Let’s go find some water.”
For a second or two, I am tempted to tell Kat exactly what I think of the show she’s been performing for my husband. But what if I am overreacting? I don’t want to be that kind of wife. I leave the horses with Bump and follow Kat inside Doc’s house, hoping she can convince me she’s more interested in developing a friendship with me than with my husband.
When we arrive home, I can’t wait to give Oka her money from the sale. I look through my purse for the envelope of cash and find the rest of the mail, unopened. “Oka?” I call as I sit on the new sofa Janine and Mr. Tucker ordered for us, a lush, navy love seat that provides a perfect spot to sit next to the fire.
“I come down,” Oka calls from upstairs. Her footsteps sweep across the floor. A door opens, closes.
While I wait for her, I read a note from Bump’s mother, a sweet letter, filled with lots of funny stories about the Andersons back home. Then I set it aside to show Bump when he comes in for supper.
I move to the next letter in the stack. It’s addressed to me but has no return label. I don’t recognize the handwriting. I open it to find a page torn out of Fitzgerald’s This Side of Paradise. A quote is circled. “The girl really worth having won’t wait for anybody.” It’s what River told me, just before he left for good. I flip the page over. No personal note, but his intent is clear. He wants me to understand … he knows where I am.
“Have fun?” Oka moves into the room.
I tuck River’s note back into my purse and find Oka’s money. “I have something for you.” I pass her the envelope of cash.
She frowns. “What this?”
“It’s all yours, Oka. You should have seen the shoppers. Sheriff Halpin wants more. Says as long as it’s selling, he’ll keep ordering.”
“Hmph,” she says, as if this is the first thing that has ever surprised her.
“We did it!” Bump runs into the house. “We got a contract, Millie!”
I’m upstairs with Oka and can barely hear him over Isabel’s crying. “I had just gotten her to sleep,” I complain to Oka. I sigh and stand from the pallet where I, too, was trying to rest. Bump’s shouting has startled us both awake. I step down into the kitchen, trying to calm Isabel in my arms. I’m too tired to smile, but I try.
Bump, on the other hand, is all smiles. He greets me with a kiss and says, “MacMillan just sent word. He’s gonna work with us. We’ll drive the cattle up here soon, move ’em back down the mountain come winter. Try to stay ahead of the snow. He’s already got the buyers, knows all the stockyards. Clear route with friendly landowners. It’s perfect, Millie. Perfect!”
“I knew you could do it,” I tell him. Isabel twists in my arms and wails, rubbing her eyes.
Bump doesn’t seem to notice. “He’s sendin’ some hands, too. To help with the drive. Good ones. With lots of experience. We might need to build some barracks, but that shouldn’t be too hard.” He’s so excited, he doesn’t even stop at the door to take off his boots. A crumbled line of dried mud trails his steps.
I try to fix Bump a glass of water from the dipper, but Isabel pulls on it, spilling it onto the floor.
Suddenly, he’s furious. “Can you just … boy, Millie, can’t you put
her down? Five minutes. That’s all I needed!” He stomps back out of the house, leaving the door open behind him. Isabel’s volume increases.
“Bump?” I call after him, but he doesn’t look back. I carry Isabel outside and try to soothe her with the rock of the porch swing. The sound of the river. The coarse, thick fur of the goats. Still, Isabel screams, arching her back and rubbing her red face with her clenched fists. She almost flails out of my arms, and I tighten my grip, which angers her more. I have to do something.
I whistle for Firefly and lead her into the barn. I carefully put Isabel into a makeshift cradle Bump built in the tack room, a safe, high box where I can place her when I need both hands. “I’ve tried everything,” I confess to my horse. “I need to calm down too, sweet girl.”
I’m hoping some time grooming Firefly will help me relax. I move the brush in long, slow strokes across her firm brown belly. Then I work the comb through her mane and weave a thick black braid along the length of her neck.
But Isabel’s wails echo around the barn, and Firefly neighs. “What do you think, girl? You think Isabel’s ready for her first ride?”
Firefly ruffles her lips.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I prep Firefly, adjusting the blanket, bridle, and straps, before pulling into the saddle with Isabel in one arm. The stirrups squeak, their leather tight from lack of use lately. “Now, see there? Better already.” I laugh and direct Firefly out to the grass, managing the reins with one hand. Isabel rests quietly across the saddle, safely cushioned between my lap, the leather horn, and my arm. Her breathing slows a bit.
As Firefly walks, slowly and carefully, across solid ground, Isabel begins to calm. It’s the first time I’ve seen her tune into something outside of herself without it triggering tears. She is focused and content. And I remember the first time I rode Firefly. How the same feeling came over me that now comforts Isabel.
By the time we reach the corner fence post, Isabel is sound asleep. I am so relieved to hear the silence, I don’t dare do anything that might wake her. Firefly leads us along the pasture’s edge, back and forth, for nearly two hours, until Isabel finally wakes, eager to nurse. I feed her right here in the pasture.
“Look at her,” I tell Firefly. “She looks so happy. So peaceful.” Then I say to Isabel, “I wish I could help you feel this way all the time.”
Isabel kicks her chubby legs and reaches up for my face, touches my cheek, looks at me. I melt.
Chapter 21
May, 1944
It’s already been a year since Mr. Cauy Tucker handed Bump a set of keys and sent us on our way. We’re celebrating our first wedding anniversary tonight, and Kat suggested we go see Casablanca. They’re reshowing it in Denver since it won the Oscar for best picture. Of course, I only know this because of Camille’s frequent updates. There’s nothing she doesn’t know about Hollywood.
Oka has been helping me sew a new dress with some fabric I bought on our last trip to town, a beautiful burgundy cotton that is soft and thin, almost like silk but much easier to handle. Now, Oka helps me attach the last of the buttons and twists my hair up in the back.
“I feel like a movie star,” I tell her. “Camille would be so proud of me.”
“Pretty,” Oka says, adding the last pin to my hair as Bump knocks on Oka’s bedroom door. Isabel lies on the mat playing with her own hands, happy for the moment.
“Come on in,” I say. Bump opens the door as I give him a spin. Isabel’s five months old, and I am finally starting to feel like me again.
Bump whistles, which makes Oka laugh. “How did a guy like me ever land a girl like you?”
I give Bump a quick kiss on his lips and say, “I’m the lucky one.”
We give a round of good-bye hugs and leave Oka in charge of Isabel for the evening. “You sure you can handle her crying?” I ask.
“Go,” Oka says. “Have fun!”
“She should eat the pear preserves,” I say, reminding Oka to mash them well. “If not, she may like the carrots, if you boil them and puree them. And there’s always the oats. Remember, she likes to sleep on her back.”
“I know. I know.” Oka laughs. “Now go!”
I give Oka another big hug, kiss Isabel for the thousandth time, and wave good-bye as if I’m leaving forever. Tears well in my eyes as I climb into the truck with Bump.
“Why are you crying?” Bump laughs as he starts the engine.
“It’s just hard,” I explain. “I feel guilty. For leaving her.”
He pulls me close to him on the seat and says, “She’ll be fine.” So this is the difference, I think, between a mother and a father. It’s physically painful for me to leave my child, while Bump doesn’t seem to mind leaving her at all.
It takes almost two hours to get to Denver, and my breasts are already swelling with milk. I focus all my attention on Bump, even though I’m a mess inside. I’m worried Isabel may be crying in pain. What if she’s hungry and refusing to eat? I’m afraid she’ll be too much for Oka to handle. But I try not to let Bump know how worried I really am. I don’t want anything to ruin this night.
When we arrive in Denver, Bump walks beside me and holds open the doors. He makes me feel like royalty, especially when he offers to buy me a beautiful green dress I admire in a boutique window. “Try it on,” he says, encouraging me to go into the store.
“We sure don’t have that kind of money,” I argue, smiling. I quickly add, “And I’d never have a reason to wear such a thing anyway. It’d be a waste.”
“Come on, Millie. That dress was made for you.” He looks as if he’s imagining me in it. I blush.
“It’s the last thing I need.” Even though part of me wants to try it on, just for fun, there’s no way I could ever spend that kind of money on myself when his parents are struggling to keep a roof over their heads. “I’d much rather you send the money home.”
Bump nearly pouts. “Why won’t you let me spoil you? Just once?”
I don’t answer, but lead him instead to the next fancy window where we dream all over again. It is awfully fun to pretend.
As the evening continues, Bump is the perfect gentleman. He lets go of my hand only to open doors for me. And he insists on letting me order first at the restaurant, anything I want no matter the price. I’m surprised when he asks the waiter to open a bottle of champagne. A very special treat. Then he raises his glass and gives me a toast. “To Millie. The girl I want to kiss every morning and every night.” I am happy to give him that kiss. And then another. Diners watch and giggle, but I don’t care. Nothing will stop me from having a good time tonight.
“To Bump,” I add. “For making me the luckiest girl in the world.”
We splurge on crisp green salads, fresh fruits, grilled trout, and sautéed vegetables. For dessert, a rich crème brûlée with a crispy, golden crust, “like they make in Paris,” the waiter tells us, saying Par-ee as if he were French, even though he’s obviously as American as the rest of us, with his sunburned skin and Clark Gable mustache.
“It’s absolutely the most delicious meal I’ve ever had.” I sigh and lean back in my chair, wishing we could eat like this every day.
Bump agrees, following his bite of crème brûlée with a second glass of bubbly.
“We should do this more often.” I say, holding my hand up to decline a refill of champagne. I already feel light-headed and am afraid I wouldn’t be able to handle another taste.
“You got that right,” Bump says a little too loudly, grinning widely. I’m afraid he may not be able to handle his refill either.
After the meal, we settle in for the film, and Bump sits close against me. I am a girl again, with a tremendous crush on my husband. I lean my head onto his shoulder and love the way it feels to be this near him. It’s been so long, too long, since he wanted me by his side.
The movie only adds to the romance. The entire
effect is magical, as if we’d taken a voyage far, far away. As Ingrid Bergman moves across the screen, I pretend I’m Ilsa Lund. I’m feeling lighter, more graceful, beautiful even, until Annina and Rick shake me with their truths.
Annina: Oh, monsieur, you are a man. If someone loved you very much, so that your happiness was the only thing that she wanted in the world, but she did a bad thing to make certain of it, could you forgive her?
Rick: Nobody ever loved me that much.
Annina: And he never knew, and the girl kept this bad thing locked in her heart? That would be all right, wouldn’t it?
Rick: You want my advice?
Annina: Oh, yes, please.
Rick: Go back to Bulgaria.
Bump’s fingers lace through mine, and I hold his hand tightly, afraid to let go. He has no idea of the bad thing I keep locked in my heart. If I told him, would he forgive me? Would he understand that his happiness was the only thing I wanted in this world? Or would he tell me to go back to Mississippi?
The movie ends with me in tears and Bump praising the film. “I can see why it won an award,” he admits. “I didn’t know what was gonna happen, right up to the end.”
As we exit the theater, I’m surprised to cross paths with Kat. She’s dressed to the nines, wearing the gorgeous green dress Bump tried to buy for me earlier this evening. She’s also walking hand in hand with a man we’ve never met.
“Millie! Kenneth!” Kat delivers each of us a quick hug and introduces her date. “Meet Samuel Brigg, an old friend.”
When Mountains Move Page 17
